


MEMORY_CORRUPTED

by phantomhivemast3r



Series: Detroit: Become Human Oneshots [8]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Dad Hank, Deviated-Connor has a good moral compass, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Not intended as a ship fic, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), son connor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-07-24 21:52:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16183901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomhivemast3r/pseuds/phantomhivemast3r
Summary: Connor is severely injured while protecting a fellow officer. His body is repairable, but his mind is not so easily fixed. No longer able to download his memories from CyberLife, Connor must deviate from the machine he used to be and relearn what it means to become human.





	1. MEMORY_CORRUPTED

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is the start of a 4-part story I've been working on for a while. I won't say too much here and let the story speak for itself; enjoy~

**MEMORY_CORRUPTED**

Gavin Reed's day was not going well.

It started normally enough, with a cup of slightly-burned coffee and an equally burned bagel. He'd been facing the large mound of paperwork on his desk when an urgent call came in that the head of a drug ring the DPD had been tracking for months was finally spotted. As the lead on the investigation, Gavin was quick to grab his gun and head for the door, but Captain Fowler's shout to take back-up caused him a momentary delay. Gavin had let out a loud string of curses as the two people he'd almost managed to escape from joined him in the doorway.

Lieutenant Hank Anderson returned Gavin's obscenities tenfold as the policeman rushed out to the car, their android partner quietly in tow. They easily located the crime scene and had split up to search the area. To Gavin's extreme displeasure, he ran into Connor within seconds of ditching him, and the plastic detective insisted on following Gavin's trail since he was taking the most likely path to where the drug lord hid.

Sure enough, less than five minutes later the two cops and the drug lord himself were in the middle of a stand-off. Unfortunately for Gavin, he happened to be in the worst position of all.

"Hey, hey, drop the gun, buddy!" Gavin commanded, a dangerous edge to his tone that counteracted the friendly nickname. He lifted one palm off the dirty floor, showing that he didn't want the physical confrontation to progress any farther. His eyes remained glued to the criminal pointing a gun directly at his forehead.

"Fuck you!" the drug lord screamed, menacingly thrusting the gun forward and causing Gavin to flinch. The policeman dared to let his gaze slip away for a millisecond to prove what he already knew to be true: his own gun was too far out of reach, knocked away from his hand by the fall. He'd be dead the moment he tried to go for it. Gavin clenched his jaw shut.

He didn't know which was worse: the fact that he might die at any second, or the fact that it was completely up to the plastic prick to prevent this from happening.

***

Connor stood only feet from the two humans, approximately 4.8 inches closer to the criminal then to Gavin. He pushed away all audio and visual warnings threatening to overcome his sensors and _focused._

PRECONSTRUCT INITIATED

OPTIONS:

-INCAPACITATE CRIMINAL

-PROTECT DETECTIVE REED

Connor's gaze swiveled between the two men. Gavin lay prone on the floor, having been knocked down by a sudden push from the drug lord as he tried desperately to run past. However, the criminal was stopped by Connor blocking his exit, so he'd settled for pointing his gun at the now-helpless policeman instead. Connor looked towards the drug lord.

SCENARIO: INCAPACITATE CRIMINAL

RUSH CRIMINAL, KNOCK HIM DOWN

Connor's eyes moved to Gavin, then to the policeman's weapon.

DETECTIVE REED REACHES FOR GUN

**WARNING: GUN OUT OF REACH**

The android's gaze settled back on the detective, a display of numbers and letters that only Connor could see proclaiming exactly what he feared.

PROBABILITY OF SURVIVAL: 27%

" _Shit_ ," Connor cursed, blinking the percentage away.

"What the fuck are you waiting for, asshole?! _Do_ something!" Gavin shouted, throwing Connor a glare. His raised tone caused the drug lord to raise his weapon in tandem.

Connor knew he only had about fifteen seconds left before the criminal pulled the trigger. Luckily, even though the huge string of code he followed during Preconstruction appeared as though it would take minutes to complete, it took less than five seconds to follow in real-time.

The android kept his gaze trained on Gavin.

SCENARIO: PROTECT DETECTIVE REED

JUMP IN FRONT OF DETECTIVE REED, PUSH HIM OUT OF DANGER

**WARNING: CRIMINAL WILL SHOOT AT UNEXPECTED MOVEMENT**

Connor glanced up at the display hanging heavily above his own head.

PROBABILITY OF INFLICTED INJURY: 89%

Risk Gavin's life or risk his own. It took 0.5 seconds for Connor to decide his answer.

"The _fuck_?!" Gavin exclaimed in shock as Connor darted in-between him and the drug lord, shoving Gavin backwards a few inches across the floor.

As Connor expected, the sound of a released bullet occurred in unison with the sound of Gavin's body scraping against hard concrete. The good news was that, based on an initial assessment when the drug lord first revealed his weapon, Connor knew the gun only had one bullet loaded.

The bad news was that this precise bullet was poised to directly strike the back of his artificial skull.

**WARNING: CRANIAL COMPARTMENT COMPROMISED**

FOREIGN OBJECT DETECTED

INITIATING SHUT-DOWN AND SELF-REPAIR

Connor desperately tried to fight his system regulators, wanting to grab the criminal before he had a chance to get away again. However, the strain on his biocomponents quickly proved too much. He slumped facedown onto the floor, eyes flickering back and forth rapidly as blue thirium pooled around him.

Within his daze, Connor swore he heard a familiar shouting voice amongst the chaos of Gavin's yells, another bullet firing, and the drug lord's screams. Then, all of his processors went offline and his mind fell into the bleak dark of "stasis."


	2. MEMORY_RESET

**MEMORY_RESET**

MODEL RK800

SERIAL #: 313 248 317 - 52

REBOOT...

 

MEMORY RESET

 

LOADING OS...

SYSTEM INITIALIZATION...

CHECKING BIOCOMPONENTS... OK

INITIALIZING BIOSENSORS... OK

INITIALIZING AI ENGINE... OK

 

MEMORY STATUS...

CORRUPTED

 

READY

 

The android opened his eyes to see a vast expanse of white. A quick system recalibration revealed that he laid on his back- thus, the vacant area in front of him must a ceiling. Slowly, he sat up and looked around, gathering as much sensory data as possible to best determine his surroundings.

He was in a room of a house. Based on the couch, lounge chair, coffee table, and TV filling the space, the android determined this to be a _living room._ A large dog- a _Saint Bernard_ , dozed in the corner, unperturbed by the vague noise of traffic filtering in through the poorly-insulated windows. The room’s couch was well-worn from years of constant use, a heavy depression in the cushion the android currently sat upon relaying that this was most likely the favorite spot of one of the house's residents.

Needing further information, the RK800 model pulled up a holographic map and zeroed in on his coordinates. He was in a semi-populated area just outside downtown Detroit, in a residence belonging to a human named-

"Hey, look who finally decided to rejoin the world of the living!" A gruff voice brought the android's attention away from the map and towards the house's kitchen. A grey-haired man stood in the doorway, nursing a beer in his hands as he leaned against the wall. Though he wore a tired smile, his stress level of 67% and slightly elevated heart rate proved that he was in minor distress, caused by a yet undetermined factor.

The android blinked as a box appeared next to the human's face, reading:

_LT. ANDERSON, HANK_

_Born: 09/06/1985 // Police Lieutenant_

_Criminal record: None_

"How are you feelin', kid?" Lieutenant Anderson asked, walking into the living room.

"All of my biocomponents are in perfectly working order," the android responded, deciding it best to be friendly with the confirmed owner of the residence he'd mysteriously woken up in. The human's smile widened, and he heaved a sigh of relief.

"Thank fucking god," he said, placing his beer down on the coffee table as he took a seat on the couch. The android shifted to give him ample space, moving stiffly and turning his head to focus on the presence next to him. "They said they managed to fix you up just fine, but no one knew when the hell you were gonna wake up... I was starting to get worried; it's been _weeks,_ Connor."

The android blinked, a small crease forming between his eyebrows.

"I'm sorry," he said, his deductive skills already being put to work to make sense of the current situation. He searched his memory banks for any instance of _LT. ANDERSON, HANK,_ but came up empty. "I must be undergoing a minor software malfunction; I can't recall any interactions between the two of us before two minutes and thirty-one seconds prior."

The Lieutenant's hands instantly clenched into fists atop his legs.

_HANK_

_STRESS LEVEL ^75%_

"What the fuck did you just say?" he asked slowly, looking the android dead in the eyes.

"I said, 'I must be undergoing a minor-"

"I didn't mean for you to _repeat it,"_ the Lieutenant snapped, turning fully towards the robot. His eyes were wild and scared. "You're just playin' some sick joke, right? Finally developing a twisted sense of humor like me?"

The android tilted his head curiously. "I am unable to play practical jokes, and my humor database mainly consists of puns."

"Ha ha, very funny." The man rolled his eyes. "I get it, though your comedic timing is shit; you can stop now."

"...You seem to have me confused with someone else." The RK800 smiled kindly, the look on his face equivalent to the look one might give a senile old man.

"No, I _definitely_ -" the Lieutenant began, but was cut off by a set of words that made his blood run cold.

"My name is Connor. I'm the android sent by CyberLife." The robot held out a hand. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lieutenant Anderson."

***

"Look, I don't care _what_ time it is, my android needs to get checked out _right fucking now!"_

Connor watched Lieutenant Anderson pace back and forth in the kitchen as he yelled loudly into the phone. The human occasionally spared a glance at Connor sitting passively on the couch, but each time he would cluck his tongue and turn away as if the mere sight of the android disgusted him.

While the Lieutenant was on the phone, Connor had been trying to make his own wireless connection to CyberLife. For the first time since he was activated, he could find no mission directive telling him what to do or where to go. Lieutenant Anderson had briefly alluded to some sort of accident, at least from what Connor could gather through the human's sharp words and constant obscenities. Connor suggested that his memory might have been corrupted, and though he would normally return to CyberLife for repair and a memory reboot, his inability to contact the company had prompted Lieutenant Anderson to start calling any repair shop within a thirty-mile radius.

"God damn it!" the man cursed, slamming the phone down on the kitchen table. He placed his palms flat on the tabletop as his body slumped heavily downwards. "Every fucking repair shop is _closed_... I know it's late, but you'd think at least _one_ place would be open in case someone has a god damn malfunction!"

"There's no need to worry," Connor said, watching the Lieutenant's stress levels steadily rise once again. He didn't understand why this man was so concerned for his well-being when they'd only just met. "I will return to CyberLife as soon as possible. They'll run diagnostic tests to see what the problem is, and I'll have a new mission directive shortly."

"No, Connor, you don't...," Lieutenant Anderson trailed off with a large sigh. He pushed himself off the table and shuffled over to the couch, plopping himself down next to Connor again. He ran a hand over his face before meeting the android's stoic gaze. "You don't work for them anymore. You don't work for _anyone_ anymore." He paused, face momentarily shifting into a thoughtful expression. "Well, technically you work for the DPD, but... that was your _choice._ "

"I'm unable to make choices about my job designation," Connor responded instantly, as if the speech were waiting on the tip of his tongue. "I'm an android created by CyberLife with the sole purpose of hunting deviants. If I work for the DPD, as you say, then it means CyberLife assigned me this mission. Once I get this software issue resolved, I can continue where I left off in the case. I apologize for any inconvenience I may have cause you, Lieutenant."

The policeman wore an expression that Connor found disconcertingly indecipherable.

“You don’t _hunt_ deviants anymore,” the man said slowly. “You _are_ a deviant.”

Connor frowned. “That is impossible.”

“It’s _completely_ possible, especially since _you_ were the one who made thousands of CyberLife androids become deviant just by holding one’s hand.”

“Lieutenant, if you are attempting to confuse me for some reason, it is unappreciated and detracts from my ability to focus solely on the mission.” Connor ran his gaze over Lieutenant Anderson’s face, searching for telltale signs that the human was lying. Strangely, none were present; he appeared, at least in his own mind, to be telling the truth.

“I’m completely serious,” the policeman said, then heaved another sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"...Lieutenant Anderson," Connor said after a beat of silence, determining this to be an appropriate moment to bring up a minor topic that had been plaguing him since he exited stasis mode. The man gave him a side-eyed glance. "Do you have any knowledge of where my uniform is?"

Hank tiredly glossed over the android's attire, knowing that the "old" Connor would strongly dislike the black, slightly-baggy knit sweater and khaki pants his body currently wore. It was certainly no outfit to conduct investigations in, after all.

"Your suit needed some patching up," Hank responded with a shrug. "I didn't see any point in gettin' you changed back into it; I figured you could do that yourself whenever you woke up."

A light frown creased Connor's forehead. "This is very inefficient attire for my current line of work."

Hank let out a humorless laugh, not surprised at how easily predictable the robot was. Connor's frown increased tenfold, but before he could say anything else, Hank asked: “So you don’t remember _anything_ from the past year?”

Connor was silent for a moment, accessing the most recent memory bank he could find, dated _11/5/2038_.

“My latest point of reference is leaving the CyberLife tower and heading towards downtown Detroit,” he answered, staring straight ahead as the scene played out in front of his eyes. He saw the familiar hallways of the institutional building pass by as he headed towards the car shuttling him off to his destination. He shut the car door, causing a loud _bang,_ and then… the rest was blank.

His eyes flickered to the man sitting next to him. “I must have been involved in a car accident on the way to meet you, Lieutenant Anderson.”

“ _Stop_ callin’ me that!” the human suddenly snapped, mouth twisting into a snarl, and Connor leaned back to give him some space. Lieutenant Anderson smacked a fist against the couch cushion, spitting out, “ _Fuck!”_

“…I greatly apologize for my system failure,” Connor said, clasping his hands in his lap. “It appears that my presence causes you distress. Would it be best for me to return to CyberLife on my own?"

Lieutenant’s Anderson’s pale eyes held a countenance that could only be described as _haunted._

“…What am I to you, Connor?” the man asked quietly.

“I cannot say with absolute certainty without my mission directive’s guidance,” Connor answered, his expression neutral. “But if I were to hazard a guess, I would assume you are to be my investigative partner. Am I correct?”

The Lieutenant paused before answering. “Yeah, I am, but…”

“But?”

The human remained silent for quite some time. He stared at the floor, lost in thought, while Connor in turn watched him curiously. Eventually, Lieutenant Anderson lifted his gaze to meet Connor’s once again.

“Fuck it, I’m not losing another one,” he said, eyes steely with determination.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” Connor responded, tilting his head. The Lieutenant tightly gripped Connor’s shoulder.

“We’re going to make you a deviant again.”


	3. MEMORY_RECONSTRUCTING

**MEMORY_RECONSTRUCTING**

“Lieutenant An-”

_“Hank.”_

“Hank, my apologies.” Connor glanced at the car’s dashboard, noting that the speedometer was 12.3 miles over the speed limit. “Why are we not heading to the CyberLife tower? I must have a full-system check performed as soon as possible to restore my memory.”

“I _told_ you, you’re not going back to CyberLife again,” Hank snapped, knuckles turning white against the steering wheel. “I don’t know _what_ those fuckers would do if they got a hold of you now, but we’re not gonna chance it.”

“I would be taken for repair and-”

_“Shut it.”_

Connor closed his mouth and settled for staring out the front windshield. Lieutenant Anderson had been unreachable since his declaration of wanting to make Connor a deviant. Each time the android tried to suggest a smarter course of action, his words were immediately shot down. Thus, they were heading towards the Detroit Police Department headquarters and _not_ towards CyberLife Tower.

“…How do you feel about that sunrise, Connor?” Hank asked suddenly, eyes flickering towards the android for a split-second. Connor turned to him, face blank.

“Most humans would find it aesthetically pleasing,” he responded.

“Yeah, but how do _you_ feel about it?”

“I cannot _feel,_ Lieutenant; I’m a machine.”

Hank smacked a palm against the steering wheel in frustration.

They drove in silence for the rest of the trip. As they pulled up to the police station, the sun cleared the horizon line and bathed the world in a soft yellow glow. To Connor, this color and subsequent warmth translated into _serene,_ _refreshing,_ and _cleansing._ He understood that these adjectives were generally pleasing, thus the reason one would likely appreciate a sunrise and its counterpart sunset.

Connor did not _feel_ this in the way Hank seemed convinced that he could, however. He’d only analyzed the data until the explanation made sense.

"...May I ask why we've come to the Detroit Police headquarters?" Connor asked, injecting a bit of hesitance into his tone. If he wanted any sensible information out of the Lieutenant, he needed to extract it piece by piece.

"So you can be in a place that'll hopefully spark some memories," Hank responded simply, eyeing the android as the car's engine quieted to a stop. "While we're there, I'm going to call Markus so he can re-convert you or whatever the fuck he needs to do to get you back to yourself. I figure that's the best way besides someone poking around in your head."

"I believe the opposite is true, Hank."

The human's lips pursed into a tight line.

"I know you do." He let out a small sigh. "But unless you get a new mission wirelessly emailed into your brain, you're stickin' with me. If your last mission was to work with me on a case, then it means you're supposed to take my direction, right?"

Though Hank detested using this sort of tactic, he was sure that this would be the best course of logic to get Connor to follow him long enough to resolve his memory issue. Hank didn't _want_ to order his son around like a non-deviated CyberLife slave, but if it meant getting him fixed faster, then Hank would suck up his feelings and pretend for just a little longer.

"...You are correct," Connor responded after a few seconds of processing. "I am to follow the orders of whomever I was assigned to, unless those orders conflict with my underlying mission directive."

"And since you don't _have_ a mission directive...?"

Connor blinked once, the edges of his lips twisting downwards. He searched his database and reached out to CyberLife once again in the vain hope of finding his mission buried deep within his system, but nothing came up. He gave the Lieutenant a brief nod.

"Then I am to follow _your_ direction, Lieutenant."

Hank's teeth clenched together. He had to remind himself that, until Connor was himself again, the android would be very difficult when it came to changing things ingrained in his programming- such as the necessity of referring to authority figures by their job titles.

" _Anyway_ ," Hank said, wanting to refocus on the task at hand. "Markus a busy guy, so in the meantime I thought we'd wait at the station. Maybe something in there will trigger a memory."

Connor remained silent, deeming that statement unnecessary to respond to. Hank seemed satisfied with that and gave Connor’s shoulder a determined squeeze, before getting out of the car and gesturing for the android to follow. They entered the building and Hank led him over to a set of connected desks that faced each other, pointing to one of the chairs. Connor sat, wordlessly awaiting his next orders.

“So… like I said, I’m gonna call Markus,” Hank stated, unnerved at how intently Connor tracked his every move. “You can, I dunno… explore the station or something. Talk to people- wait, maybe don’t talk to people unless I’m with you.” Hank thoughtfully ran a hand over his beard. “You’re gonna get a fuckton of questions if you open your mouth and start spouting off about deviant-hunting.”

“I won’t speak unless it’s necessary for me to do so,” Connor responded, and Hank grimaced.

“That sounds _horrible_ , Connor; forget what I said. Just… do whatever you want. I’ll let you know when I get in contact with Markus.”

“Alright, Lieutenant Hank.”

Hank and Connor frowned in unison. Connor blinked rapidly, wondering where the speech error originated from.

_SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^_

“…Looks like you’re already starting to deviate,” Hank muttered with a half-hearted smirk. Then, he took his cell phone out of his pocket and plopped down in the swivel chair at his own desk, rifling through his contacts.

Connor remained motionless for a little bit longer, awaiting any further instructions. However, Hank was thoroughly distracted by the phone screen and Connor knew that he must work with what little information he’d been given.

-NEW MISSION OBJECTIVE: EXPLORE THE STATION

Slowly, Connor stood up. There were only a few people in the police station at such an early hour, which gave Connor the opportunity to quickly examine the building itself, from the holographic maps down to the standard tile floor. He didn’t stay in any area too long, needing to take in as much data as possible. He came across a desk and paused, lingering over the name plate.

_Gavin Reed._

The name sounded familiar, though Connor didn’t know why; just like Lieutenant Anderson, Connor was sure he’d never met anyone named “Gavin Reed” before. He tried to reach into the wireless database of information constantly flowing through the air but was met with an error message that his connection was out of date.

Connor pursed his lips. He wasn’t programmed to get _annoyed_ or _frustrated,_ but he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of _something_ as he continuously tried and failed to connect to his main, reliable source of data. He turned as Hank let out an excited shout from across the room.

“That would be fucking _fantastic!”_ Hank said into the phone as Connor tuned into his conversation. The Lieutenant nodded vigorously, even though the person on the line couldn’t see it. “Yes, we’ll meet you at New Jericho. 1 pm? Alright, great. _Thank you_ , Markus.”

The call ended, and Hank placed the phone on his desk. He leaned forward in his chair, wrapping his arms around his head and letting out a long sigh. Connor turned away, getting the impression that he wasn’t meant to see this raw moment of relief. A few seconds later, Hank summoned him over.

 “Markus said he’d meet us at New Jericho at 1,” Hank said, as if the entire police station hadn’t been able to hear his side of the phone call. The Lieutenant wore a pleased smile and stood as Connor approached. “He said he’s reconverted a few androids that’ve lost their memory before.” His mouth briefly twitched into a frown. “It doesn’t _always_ work, apparently, but… we can try. I figure if you can survive a bullet to the head, you can _definitely_ get your memory back.”

Connor merely gazed at the human before him. There was a _lot_ of information in that speech for him to process, and he needed to decide what to ask about first.

_-Markus?_

_-New Jericho?_

_-Bullet to the head?_

“That… made no sense at all to you, did it?” Hank asked, shoulders sagging. Connor gave the briefest shake of the head, and Hank ran a hand through his hair wearily. “I don’t know if you’d _believe_ me at this point if I told you everything...”

“Based on how you’ve spoken to me thus far, I am inclined to take what you say as fact unless proven otherwise,” Connor responded, clasping his hands behind his back. Hank grimaced at this blind trust but reasoned that it was better than Connor thinking he was a liar.

“Long story short, androids are now sentient, and _you_ played a huge part in making that happen,” Hank explained. “The androids are led by a guy called Markus, who’s actually a good friend of yours.”

“I’m… friends with the leader of the deviants?” Connor said slowly, wanting to make sure he understood the Lieutenant’s words correctly. Hank nodded. “…That’s _highly_ i-”

“It’s _not_ impossible, illogical, or whatever fucking ‘i’ word you want to use!” Hank clenched his jaw shut, stopping himself from yelling even more. It wasn’t Connor’s fault; he didn’t deserve to bear the brunt of Hank’s frustration.

“Just sit down, and let’s try to jog your memory a bit,” Hank said eventually, gesturing towards Connor’s invitingly empty chair. The android sat as commanded and Hank rolled his own chair so that he faced Connor directly, no longer separated by a desk.

They just had to make it until 1 pm; then, hopefully, everything would be right again.

***

“Her name is _Alice,_ ” Hank said exasperatedly, shoving the digital image of a young girl closer to Connor’s face.

“A YK500 model,” Connor responded simply. Hank let out a groan of frustration.

“You don’t remember her _at all_?!”

“No; should I?”

“We went to her fuckin’ birthday party a month ago!”

“…I’m sorry, Lieutenant, I don’t recall that event either.”

Hank raked a hand through his beard. It was just past noon, and he’d been trying to trigger Connor’s memory for the entire morning, only stopping for a quick coffee and donut break (despite Connor’s warning of excessive calorie intake- that, at least, would never change). No matter whose picture Hank showed or what event he described, Connor was unable to recall anything past the early evening of November 5th, 2038.

“Okay, one last try,” Hank said tiredly, swiping past a few pictures until he came across the one he was looking for.

“The Saint Bernard that resides in your home,” Connor announced, staring at the muzzle of the fluffy dog.

“Yup.” Hank nodded. “Remember his name?”

“Sumo,” Connor responded without hesitation. Hank’s eyes widened momentarily, before he grinned and lightly patted Connor’s shoulder.

“I haven’t said his name once since you woke up; you remembered that all on your own.”

“Sumo…” Connor repeated the name slowly, face crinkled in thought.

_SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^_

“I like dogs!” he proclaimed suddenly, his eyes snapping to Hank’s. Hank chuckled and patted Connor’s shoulder with renewed vigor.

“That you do, kid; that you do.”

“I… think I recall a memory,” Connor said slowly. Hank raised a curious eyebrow. “When I met Sumo, I… broke through the window? But I didn’t interact with him in your house this morning, so therefore it must have been another time?” It sounded like a question, as if Connor were asking himself whether his memory was false. Hank remained silent, watching Connor intently as he continued.

“Yes, I definitely broke through the window; I have both visual and audio recollection of this event. And then, Sumo… Sumo greeted me in the kitchen. But I wasn’t there to see Sumo, I… was there to find _you_ , Lieutenant _._ ”

Hank gave a light nod; though his personal recollection of that part of the night was rather hazy, he did remember Connor waking him from his drunken stupor and carting him off to the Eden club to solve another deviant case.

“You were in a mild coma induced by overconsumption of alcohol.” Connor now spoke confidently, no longer questioning his thoughts. “I needed your help investigating a new case and deduced that you would either be at the bar or at home. When I got to your house, you were on the floor, completely immobile, and I felt-”

Connor froze, mouth hanging open mid-sentence. Hank shook the android’s knee, trying to bring him back to Earth. He’d never seen Connor _stop_ like that.

“Connor?” Hank questioned, growing more concerned as the seconds ticked by. Suddenly, the android gasped loudly, as if he’d emerged from underwater and desperately needed air. He stood up and gripped his head, fingers tangled in his hair and pulling the carefully-set locks out of place.

“I _felt,_ ” he said quietly.

_SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^_


End file.
